


No fury like it

by oooknuk



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 20:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oooknuk/pseuds/oooknuk
Summary: Ray finds out what it's like to be unfairly accused by a friend turned enemy.





	No fury like it

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters you recognise will belong to Alliance. No infringement of copyright intended.   
> Not for profit. 
> 
> Warnings: Language, m/m (no graphic sex darn it)

"As we walk along life's highway, it's nice to know that in a crunch I can just really count on you."   
Luanne Russell, on friendship, 'A Likely Story'

"All [man's] trouble arises from his being a basically harmless, omnivorous creature, lacking in natural weapons with which to kill big prey, and therefore, also devoid of the built-in safety devices which prevent 'professional' carnivores from abusing their killing power to destroy fellow-members of their own species."   
Konrad Lorenz, 'On Aggression'. 

* * *

'I'm gonna pass a bullet through my brain,' Ray swore to himself after Welsh lumbered away from his desk, having delivered a biting rebuke about 'keeping your goddamned love life out of my goddamned office, Detective.'  Welsh, he could handle. He could handle Marge the desk sergeant glaring at him and deliberately misplacing his booking sheets. He could handle Dewey's sniggers, and Huey's knowing look. Hell, he could even handle Francesca giving him the evil eye every time she walked past his desk - and _no one_ could give the evil eye better than an Italian.

No, what he couldn't handle was Welsh and Marge and Dewey and Huey and Francesca and ... oh wonderful - the last piece of humiliation just walked in, carrying the now familiar and much loathed yellow card. Ray put his hand up just as Fraser sat down. "Fraser, if you're going to tell me that you didn't want to be involved in my private affairs, or that I'm the lowest scum that ever walked the earth, or some cute little metaphor about caribou ... just don't, OK? I heard it, and if I haven't - I don't want to."

Fraser clearly refused to be intimidated by his unfriendly reception. "Actually, Ray, I was simply going to ask if you were aware of Miss O'Halloran's activity - but I see that you are. However, it certainly does prove that Shakespeare was right ..."

"That hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? Thank you, Fraser, that makes you the fourth person to come out with that today. I figured that one out for myself, actually. What the fuck did I do to deserve this?"

"A considerable amount, according to this," he replied, placing the yellow message on Ray's desk.

"You believe all that bullshit, Fraser?" Ray lifted weary eyes to his partner's, seeing only curiosity. But, hell, Fraser always looked like that.

"What I believe or don't believe is irrelevant, Ray."

"You believe it," Ray said flatly.

"It's not important ..."

"Of course it's important, Fraser!" Ray's raised voice was attracting attention that he could live without, so he dropped it to a fierce whisper. "You think I can work with you, knowing you believe that ... that... I'm a liar, and a two-timer, and a fucking child molester?"

"Ray, she's not saying that ... merely that you made advances to her daughter, who is not a child."

"She's eighteen, Fraser! Twenty years younger than me - you think I'd do something like that? When I'm going out with her mother? Come on - tell it to me straight - you think I'd do something that mean?"

"What I think isn't important - you know the truth of the affair, and that's all that matters."

Ray refused to let it drop. "Fraser - you're my partner. It matters to me what you think. You believe this, don't you. Some woman spreads this shit all over my friends, and my workplace - and you believe it. God almighty." Ray groaned, putting his forehead on his desk, too sick of defending himself even to get mad. Just one bullet. Or a cup of arsenic. Yeah - he was sure some of his female co-workers could come up with that.

"My opinion of you hasn't been influenced by this, Ray.  I know you, and made my assessment of you long ago. Nothing will change that."

Ray lifted his head, saw calm Canadian eyes, and a judgement-free expression. "Yeah?"

"Yes. Now I believe we have some work to do on that jewellery robbery?"

Ray grabbed the relevant file gratefully. The two men discussed the results of their various enquiries, and Ray managed to forget, for a while, the humiliation and anger his former lover's actions had caused him. But only until his cell phone rang.

"Vecchio... Mom! She what?... oh shit, look Mom, I'm sorry... no, I didn't do that... come on, Mom, you know me better than that ... Mom, don't cry... yeah, I know it's your birthday ... look, I didn't give her that ... Mom? Mom?  Oh hi Dad... yeah, I know - Dad, you know I'd never tell someone... okay, okay - look, tell Mom ... did she get my present? Oh, jesus, Dad, that's not fair ... listen, I can't talk now, gotta go. Call you tomorrow."

Ray pressed the 'End' button and looked at Fraser angrily.

"She fucking called my mother - on her fucking birthday. Can you believe that? Mom and Dad didn't even know I was going out with Suzanne.  Told Mom chapter and verse about her baby boy, and they think ... God, Fraser, they think there's no smoke without fire, you know? They can't believe someone would make that sort of thing up. And Dad's mad at me because he thinks I gave her their phone number - which I didn't. Lesson number fifty two in love, Fraser - do not leave your little black book lying around when you're about to give someone the heave-ho."

"I don't have a little black book, Ray."

"No, it's all in your head, right? Have to give you a lobotomy or something to get personal information out of you." Ray raised his hand again to forestall Fraser's imminent lecture on the actual purpose of brain surgery. "What the hell am I gonna do?  She's contacted every fucking person I know. I even had Stella on the phone earlier giving me an earful.  Guess I'm lucky I didn't tell her I was undercover - she'd have put that in her little message too."

"There's very little you can do, Ray. Constant denials will ring false.  And she does make a convincing case - true or false as the allegations may be..."

"May be? They're not true, Fraser. Hell - even you?"

"I told you, Ray. It's irrelevant to me what she's said. My advice, for what it's worth, is to just leave things alone. That's all you can do."

Ray stood up and got his coat. "Nope, you're wrong." He pulled his car keys out and tossed them to Fraser. "There is one other thing I can do. I, Ray _Vecchio_ , can go and get drunk. You coming?"

 

* * *

Ray had only done this twice before, to Fraser's knowledge. Once, after Beth Botrelle was saved at the last minute from execution. The other time was after Luanne Russell. That time, Fraser had had to actually carry Ray up to his apartment after he'd passed out. Fraser wondered, not for the first time, how a man who was so fearless, and who would dive through windows, into lakes, in front of bullets, could be laid so low by the women in his life - lovers or not.  An Achilles heel they shared. Along with a predilection for thin blondes. Or blonds.

Ray made inroads into his sobriety silently, steadily and with frightening concentration, downing four shots in short order, and nursing a fifth. Fraser wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about his vindictive girlfriend or not, so kept his counsel, watching and waiting. Suddenly Ray blurted out, "Why d'you think she did it, Fraser?  I mean, I told her I was sorry for hurting her feelings - I even sent her flowers. What else could I do?"

Fraser sighed. "You know, Ray, it's something I've come to expect, if not really understand, but human beings are the only animals that respond to an act of submission with an attack."

"Huh?" Ray clearly wasn't processing words that long.

"What I mean, Ray, is that other animals - well, take wolves - that live in packs as humans do, have a dominance hierarchy. A subordinate wolf who has offended the leader, rolls on his back and bares his throat as an apology. Only a deranged alpha would take advantage of that submission, and actually tear out the throat being offered. Unfortunately, in my experience - and sadly, now in yours - a person in such a situation will almost always go for the jugular.  Kicking someone when they're down is entirely a human trait."

"So we're worse than animals."

"I'm sorry to say that I often think so. The company of wolves is a refreshing change sometimes. You know what to expect."

Ray mulled this over, but the actions of his ex-girlfriend were obviously still grating on him.

"I still don't get it. Why be so nasty about it? She wasn't in love with me or nothing, and I sure wasn't in love with her."

"Are you certain, Ray? Such hatred would indicate her feelings for you had been very strong before."

"Hell, Fraser - I dunno. We talked about marriage - not us, but she'd been married, me too. Just generally, you know? I guess maybe she thought there was more there than there was. I couldn't handle the jealousy. I just wanted someone nice to be with ... it's been a long time since .. well, you know."

Fraser nodded. He did indeed know. "And the daughter?"

"I only met her the once - cute kid, just starting college. I can't believe Suzanne dragged her into this. Can't believe any of this. I thought Suzanne was okay - not the brightest crayon in the box, but she was, uh..."

"I think I understand, Ray," Fraser said calmly, which seemed to surprise Ray.  "But you weren't compatible in other aspects?"

"Hell no. I mean, she was polite and all. But she wasn't smart like Stella - or you. You're a pal, a buddy. She wasn't."

"And yet you went out with her for two months." Fraser realized it sounded like a reproach. Perhaps it was.

"Come on, Fraser. You get to be nearly forty, divorced, a cop - you can't be choosy. A woman says, 'hey you're cute', and she's got all her own teeth and both legs - that's about all I can ask." Ray sounded so bitter, Fraser had to bite his tongue to stop himself listing the reasons why Ray could expect so much more. "Anyways, can't even do that any more. No woman I know is going to want anything to do with me after this."

"What about the men?" The question slipped out, and now Fraser really did bite his tongue. He waited for the explosion, but to his relief, and astonishment, Ray just laughed, in a slightly tipsy fashion.

"Shit, Fraser buddy - if I had a chance with the guys, you think I'd go out with women like Suzanne?"

Daringly, Fraser decided to push, a little. "You might have a chance. You don't know until you try."

Ray shook his head. "Nah.  Don't ping the old gaydars any more. The gay guys think I'm too old, and the straight ones...." His voice tailed off.  "I think I'm drunk now, Fraser," he said seriously.

"So it would appear. Do you want to go home?" he asked, carefully ignoring the unfinished sentence that he so wanted to hear the rest of.

"One more ... maybe two. I can still feel my brain. Don't wanna feel it."

It was actually three drinks later before Fraser could persuade Ray to leave, and discovered that manhandling a drunk conscious Kowalski was actually considerably more difficult than carrying an unconscious one. Fraser prayed silently to all the Christian and pagan deities he could think of that none of Ray's neighbours would see either of them as he struggled with Ray's long arms and legs which seemed attached with indian Rubber, trying to get both of them up the stairs. Ray squirmed as Fraser searched his jeans pockets for his apartment keys. "Cut it out, Fraser - tickles."

"I've got them now, Ray."

"And I got you, Fraser buddy." Ray turned in Fraser's grasp and was suddenly facing him, blowing Scotch-laden breath right in his face. "Always got my Fraserbuddy, that right?"

Fraser pushed him back a little, hoping the cop would not remember any of this in the morning. "Yes, Ray. In you go."

He manoeuvred Ray into the apartment and slammed the door. Immediately, Ray straightened up.  "Need to whizz," as he made a determined, if somewhat wobbly dash for his bathroom. Fraser put water on for coffee. He was grateful that both of them had the day off the following day, as he suspected Ray would not be in a fit state to carry out police duties in the morning. Ray was longer than he should have been, and Fraser, worried, pushed open the bathroom door which Ray had forgotten to lock - or even shut. To his relief, he found his friend splashing water on his face, looking a little less intoxicated. "Be out in a sec, Fraser." Fraser closed the door.

He finished making the coffee, and poured it out just as Ray emerged, still shaky, but undoubtedly more sober. He took the hot cup from Fraser. "Thanks." He took a long slurp.  "How come you get yourself into these situations, Fraser? Carrying home drunks - you don't even drink."

"It's in the job description - wrestle bears, sled across ice flows, carry home drunken and depressed friends, that sort of thing."

Ray squinted at him. "You just made a joke."

"Yes, Ray."

"I'm sitting here thinking about what a screw-up I am, and you made a joke?"

"Yes, Ray.  What would you prefer I did?"

Ray mumbled something into the coffee cup, then drank from it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. What did you say?"

Ray put the cup down hard. "I said, you could try fucking me senseless, that always works." He got up off his stool and moved to the sofa. "That was a joke too, Fraser. Hardy ha ha. Why aren't you laughing?"

Fraser didn't respond to the jibe, but took up a position on the armchair opposite Ray. "If you like, Ray."

Ray was falling asleep. "What? What if I like?" he said, his eyes only half-open

"Never mind, Ray. Can I ask you a question? A personal question?"

"Aw, go ahead, Fraser. You know everything there is to know about me now - just like the rest of the universe. Dunno why she just didn't take an ad out in the paper," he mumbled.

"You implied that 'straight' men," making the quotes with his fingers, "weren't interested in you. Was there someone in particular you were thinking of?"

Ray opened bleary eyes and looked at his partner. "Fraser, I'm drunk, but I'm not that drunk, and I'm not stupid either. You think I'm gonna tell you that? Like, I don't have enough dignity left you want me to fuck up the rest of it?"

"I'm sorry I asked, Ray. I was just trying to help. Anyway, as you apparently do not need any further assistance, I really ought to be getting back. Diefenbaker will worry."

Ray was now fully awake. "Come on, Fraser. Don't sulk just because of this."

"I don't sulk, Ray, you know that."

"You do. You sulk all the time. You're the moodiest guy I know."

"I am not," Fraser said indignantly. "And that's rich coming from you." The retort slipped out, but he thought Ray did deserve a little of his own medicine.

"You're moodier than me. And you'd be madder than hell if I pried into your love life the way you do mine."

"I'm not prying..."

"Oh, so you wanting to know who I want to sleep with isn't prying?"

"No ... it's just friendly curiosity."

"Prying."

"Healthy concern for your mental state."

"It's fucking prying, and don't keep arguing with me or I'll pop you one."

"Classic logic from the master himself." Where was all this coming from? Fraser wondered. He really could end up getting a punch in the jaw.

"Well, at least I'm not repressed, oh Mister 'I haven't had sex in two years and I'm proud of it'."

"I am not repressed, and I'm not proud of it. But I _am_ going home, Ray, unless there's something else you need."

Ray stood up, and got right in Fraser's face. The Mountie held his breath, and not because Ray smelled like a bar. "I'd say there's something I need, Fraser. You gonna let me have it?"

"I might," Fraser managed to get out, just before his partner swooped and took his mouth, and proceeded to damn near give him a tongue tonsillectomy. Fraser was pushed against the wall, and his Stetson fell off. He wondered if his buttons and laces might follow suit. He wondered if he might spontaneously combust. He wondered if he could persuade Ray to do this again.

Ray set his mouth free, but kept hold of his arms, pinning him against the wall. "That answer your damn question, nosy parker?"

"Ray, you're drunk. You'll regret this in the morning. We should forget it."

"Number one. I'm drunk but not that drunk. I told you that already. Telling a Pole he can't hold his liquor is fighting words, Fraser. Number two. No, I won't regret it in the morning because I'll be too busy being hung over, and with any luck, be too fucked to care. And Number three. I'm never gonna forget this. You do what you like." He let Fraser go, and stepped back, a challenge clear in his wide, blue and surprisingly unclouded eyes. "You still going home?"

"No," Fraser said firmly, stepping up to Ray, taking him in his arms, and demonstrating his superior Canadian technique, to the enthusiastic approval of his audience.

"Fraser?"

"Mmmm ... yes?"

"Shakespeare say anything about this?"

"I'm sure he did. But if you think I plan to waste time quoting Shakespeare when I could be making love to you, you're sadly mistaken." He began to walk Ray backwards to his bedroom.

"You're a bully."

"And you're easy."

"You planning to tell everyone about this?"

"Yes. So be good and give me something to tell them about."

"Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray?" Why did he have to talk so much, when there were so many other things he could use that wonderful mouth for, Fraser wondered, as he began to efficiently strip his partner, batting away the slightly uncoordinated hands fumbling with his Sam Browne.

"Just so's you know.  No more Mr Nice Guy. You tell anyone about this, and I'll hunt you down and kill you."

"Not if I see you coming. Now will you please shut up and let me kiss you again."

"Sure... mmphph."

And the rest was silence.  Of a sort, anyway.

 

* * *

Suzanne O'Halloran never did understand why she got that second bunch of flowers.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written nearly twenty years ago under another pseudonym. It hasn't been revised since then.
> 
> I am posting this and my other stories from this period purely so people can read them if they choose. I won't be reading comments, and don't care if you leave kudos. I'm dumping them and running.
> 
> Having said that, I worked hard on them, and I hope they still entertain someone out there.


End file.
